Chapter 38
Chapter 38
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 38
Chapter Title: 이세계 의복 디자이너가 되었다 38화
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 38
Chapter Title: Mother's Reply
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Sealed Letter To William Henry Howard William, I'm so thrilled that you—who I figured wouldn't bother sending a letter even if you got stranded somewhere amid all this uproar—managed to send me no less than two letters in just a week. As I mentioned last time, we do hope you'll make a big splash, but even we didn't anticipate you'd stir things up quite this much. Unlike the last incident, where His Majesty the Emperor blindsided us out of nowhere, this time you gave your mother a heads-up before diving in. It's enough to bring tears to my eyes. That said, this is your chance to showcase your talents directly to His Majesty, so it looks like you'll need to handle it on your own. I'll provide financial backing, but anything beyond that will be tough, so bear that in mind. Helen Maria Howard, Countess. P.S. This is absolutely not out of anger. Wax Seal Two days after sending my letter, Mother's reply arrived in my hands—but sadly, it held none of the positive affirmation I'd hoped for.
I'd braced myself for less-than-glowing words from her, but I never expected a straight-up "You're on your own."
"Oh no... this is bad..."
A wave of dizziness washed over me as I gently set the letter down on the desk. Clutching my head, I let out a quiet sigh.
"Haa~"
"Young Master, um... are you alright?"
Emily crept closer, peering at my mood as I slumped back in my chair, heaving heavy sighs.
"It's nothing..."
I waved her off with a flick of my hand—right now, talking would just turn into a bunch of venting, so I signaled for her to leave me be.
"Yes..."
"Ung..."
I heard Emily retreat cautiously. Groaning softly, I dragged a hand down my face.
Quit meddling and just focus on sewing in peace.
This mess was all my doing—I couldn't blame anyone else. My head was just a throbbing knot of complications.
I really need to start thinking things through before jumping in...
"Hoo..."
I took a deep breath, forcing my tangled thoughts to settle.
First things first—shelve the distractions and list out what I need to tackle right now.
My main goal: set up an underwear sewing workshop.
To do that, I need a building, workers, and a steady material supplier.
Diving into the nitty-gritty would mean way more tasks than I can handle at the moment.
So, out of those three, what's the top priority?
People.
Finding a building or negotiating with merchant guilds? I can hustle around and sort that out myself.
This isn't some sleepy village—it's the capital. No way I can't track down buildings or traders here.
But skilled labor? That's different.
Hiring basic laborers or servants is easy enough with some inquiries, but tailors or pattern makers? They're apprenticeship-trained, so unless they come knocking, good luck finding them.
Which means I need to start drawing them to me, and fast.
Thanks to His Majesty, I've got the fame locked down.
Now I just need to spread the word about what I'm planning: promotion.
Plenty of ways to do it, but the play right now is the newspaper.
Pay up, and your message hits every corner of the nation every two weeks—no fuss, instant reach.
"Today is..."
I checked the date first.
The latest issue dropped three days ago, so if I hustle to the newspaper offices, I can slot into the next one.
"Aigh..."
With a sigh, I picked up my quill.
Rough Draft Hiring Tailors or seamstresses with dreams, plus general helpers to assist them. Preference for sewing experience or artistic drawing talent. Wages and conditions to be negotiated later. Interested? Send a letter to Royal Street No. 7, then seek out William Henry Howard: Third Monday of July at the capital's coffeehouse <Lloyd>, Tuesday at the pub <Red Oak Cask>. I scribbled it out stream-of-consciousness style, shook the paper to dry the ink, then folded it into an envelope.
I'll deliver this straight to the newspaper offices myself...
"Emily."
I beckoned to Emily, who was hovering nervously in the corner.
"Yes, Young Master."
"Fetch Francis for me."
"Yes."
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇ About thirty minutes later, Francis arrived at my room.
Brown hair, dark eyes—outwardly utterly average. But the butler Francis, who sports a monocle over his right eye, gave a polite bow toward me the moment he entered.
"You called for me, Young Master?"
Even with his head tilted toward the floor, that monocle stayed put.
I marveled at it every time—how does he keep that uncomfortable thing from falling off year-round?
He claims you get the knack with practice, but doesn't it chafe your eye or cheekbones?
"Sorry to drag you away when you're busy."
As I stared at his monocle and offered a light apology, Francis straightened up and shook his head gently.
"Not at all. Aren't you the busy one these days, Young Master?"
"......"
Francis stays stone-faced to keep his monocle from slipping during expressions, so I can never tell if he's teasing or sincere.
"What did you need?"
"...Just had a question."
"What might that be?"
Feeling a bit uneasy under his steady gaze, I pouted and put on a sulky face as he smoothly shifted the topic.
"I want to buy a building on the capital's outskirts. Do I have to scout around myself?"
"It's possible, but no sane person hunts properties that way. Usually, you get referrals from contacts or check the bulletin board in the western capital square. The capital's just too vast."
"Fair enough..."
I nodded at his explanation.
The capital, outskirts included, spans roughly 8 km across.
About 60 square kilometers—not massive by modern standards, but way too big to comb on foot for buildings.
Even a casual lap around the outskirts empty-handed takes five hours. Forget searching.
Crazy, just like he said.
"Got it. So, do listings pop up there often?"
"It varies by season, so I can't guarantee, but the outskirts draw wealthy commoners—merchants, scholars. Unlike nobles who rely on intros, they post on the board frequently."
"I see..."
I'm heading out for the ad anyway, so I can swing by the newspaper and check the board after.
"Alright, thanks. I've got somewhere to be now—prep a carriage."
"Understood."
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇ The newspaper offices, where I'd come to place my help-wanted ad.
"......"
Stepping inside, I was met with stares like thieves eyeing a pile of gold bars.
Given how much attention I've been getting in the capital lately, it wasn't shocking—but the blatant greed was a bit off-putting.
"Ahem..."
After an awkward eye-lock with the room, one blond middle-aged man—unable to hide his grin—approached with hands clasped politely over his chest.
"Ahem! Pleased to meet you, Sir William! I'm Thomas Barnes, the editor in charge here."
No family or title mentioned—commoner. I nodded and extended a hand for a shake.
"Pleasure's mine. Honorary Knight of the Imperial Knights, William Henry Howard."
"An honor!"
We clasped hands, gave a light pump up and down, then released.
"S-so, what brings you here?"
Thomas, hands back at his chest, flashed a sly merchant's smile as he asked cautiously.
"Here to place an ad in the paper."
"An ad! We can't discuss that out here—come inside. Let me pour you some tea."
"Very well, then."
I nodded and followed as Thomas stretched an arm invitingly and led the way.
We passed staff shooting envious glances, stopping before a door marked "Editor-in-Chief."
"It's modest, but do come in."
"Mm."
Passing Thomas, who held the door, I entered a room stacked high with paper piles—giving it a somewhat cluttered vibe.
I figured it was polite flattery, but it really is a bit humble.
"Make yourself comfortable; I'll fetch it right away."
"Skip the tea—how about we cut straight to business?"
I cut him off as he headed for the teapot in the corner. I hated that awkward small-talk wait.
"That alright?"
Thomas glanced at me with a hesitant frown.
"Perfectly."
"Got it."
With my second nod of approval, he finally sat in the chair opposite mine.
"What sort of ad did you have in mind?"
I quietly drew the envelope from my pocket and handed it over.
Taking it reverently with both hands, he pulled out the paper and scanned the text with narrowed eyes.
"Short and sweet. We can slot this anywhere you like."
"Position doesn't matter as long as it runs. But what's the price?"
"Normally, the tiniest, least visible spot is 1 gold..."
He held up two fingers, trailing off as he gauged my reaction.
After a lip-biting pause and a swallow, Thomas whispered low.
"Grant us one interview, and it's 1 gold for your choice of spot."
"Hmm... And the priciest placement?"
"Top of the front page runs about 8 gold."
"Not bad."
Essentially, front-page placement for free.
"Hm..."
Answering questions isn't tough, but I hesitated.
What if they twist my words? Or hit me with uncomfortable ones? A bit scary.
But if they're the type to distort, they'd trash me anyway on refusal—"Arrogant Honorary Knight Rides Emperor's Coattails?" or some such headline.
"Well... I'll answer anything non-sensitive."
"Thank you!"
The moment I walked in, I knew it'd end the same—might as well profit. I nodded.
Beaming brightly with constant bows, Thomas rose to grab his notepad and pencil from his desk.
"Let's get started, then!"
"Mm."
I nodded as if to say "fire away."
Please, no awkward questions...
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